


Studies of Eye Contact

by Lilogirl



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Asperger Syndrome, Bullying, Canon Autistic Character, Childhood, Eye Contact, Family Reunions, Gen, High School, Homophobia, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27033724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilogirl/pseuds/Lilogirl
Summary: A retrospective of Abed's history with eye contact.
Relationships: Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Studies of Eye Contact

**Author's Note:**

> As someone with high functioning autism who has often struggled with eye contact, this was a pretty personnel one to be sure, and I put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it. I hope that shines through in the finished product :)

One day, when Abed is five years old, his father finds him playing in his room. The small boy is lying on his stomach, lining up his toys with quiet precision. 

He looks up at his dad. 

Well, maybe “looks” isn’t _exactly_ the right word. He can still see his father to be sure, but his eyes aren’t meeting the eyes of the man standing over him. Abed’s looking past his dad, seemingly more focused on the family portrait in the hallway outside his bedroom.

His father lets out a sigh. “Abed, what are you doing?”

Abed holds up his Batman action figure. “I’m playing. Batman’s in front because he’s my favorite-” 

“Abed, you were supposed to clean this room an hour ago, how will you be able to fall asleep tonight if there’s comic books all over your bed?” his father asks in his usual tone of dissatisfaction. Abed bites his lip in guilt, still staring at the picture in the hallway. 

“Abed, what are you looking at?” Gobi Nadir asks. He shakes his head.

“I thought we talked about this. When someone is talking to you, you need to _look them in the eye_.” he says slowly but firmly. 

“You can’t just ignore the other person, it’s not polite.”

Abed wants to say that, actually, he hasn’t been ignoring his father, that he _has_ been hearing what his Dad’s been saying, that he just really, _really,_ doesn’t want to look him in the eye because it just _hurts too much_. 

But he can’t, because his father's giving another lecture, and Abed knows that he doesn’t like to be interrupted. 

His dad goes on and on about “respect for others” and “being present”, and before Abed has the chance to say anything, he’s walked away after telling him “to have your room cleaned up by the next time I check in on you.”

Abed pouts. As he begins to put his lined up toys away, he wonders if there might be a reason why he hates making eye contact so much. 

He’s probably just weird like that. 

  
  
  


One day, when Abed is nine years old, he and his father attend a family reunion at his aunt’s house, and Abed feels terrible because there are twenty people (it feels like a million), he had to get dressed up in clothes that feel like sandpaper, and the music that’s playing is _way_ louder then it should be. 

He looks around the living room of his aunt’s home. He notices his cousins Fatima and Layan laughing about something in a magazine. He can see his Grandfather and Grandmother playing some chess. His cousin Haider is playing on his GameBoy. 

Abed starts to walk over to the corner of the room to be alone when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder. 

He stifles a yelp. 

He turns his head to see the face of auntie Rabia smiling down on him, her teeth showing in a way that is surely meant to be welcoming, but just makes Abed think she looks like a witch about to cook him into a little-boy stew. He looks to his left to try and find some form of distraction. 

“Hello, Abed! My, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you!” his aunt coos, her voice sweet and syrupy in a way that’s almost painful. She gives his shoulder a little squeeze.

“What are you looking at?” 

Abed wiggles his fingers.

“Nothing.”

Abed’s auntie looks over to where the young boy is staring, and then back at him.

“Abed, don’t you want to show your auntie that you’re paying attention?” she asks, trying to hide her emerging frustration. 

No, Abed thinks, not if showing her that he’s “paying attention” means making eye contact. This party is already sending him down a road that leads to a meltdown, and he doesn’t want to ruin yet another family gathering. 

His aunt purses her lips. 

“Abed, did you hear what I said?” she says, her frustration now on full display. 

“I did, I just don’t feel like looking at you right now.” he states plainly.

Oops.

His aunt gasps, her mouth forming a perfect oval. She narrows her eyes in agitation before walking away, muttering to herself. 

Abed looks down at his shoes.

Another mistake.

  
  
  


One day, when Abed is sixteen years old, he’s in the school cafeteria on a Tuesday afternoon. 

He’s reading a horror novel, partially because it’s become his latest obsession, but also because he wants something to distract himself from all the chatting and laughter that rings through the room. 

Just as he’s turning one of the worn and tattered pages (it is a _used_ copy after all), he hears someone whispering behind him. 

“Hey, short bus.”

Abed slowly turns around.

It’s Billy Winters. 

Abed sighs. He knows where this is going. Billy, the kid who’s been beating him up and yelling slurs at him since freshman year, is gonna call him a “retard” or “raghead” for...god, would it be the 32nd time this school year? It wasn’t even February yet… 

Billy snickers, about to pull on Abed’s green hoodie, when he notices that Abed’s not looking at him. Instead, Abed’s eyes are looking at the clock on the wall. 

“Why’d you always do that?” Billy asks, confused and angry.

Abed tilts his head. 

“Hey, _fag_ , answer my question.” he says, clearly on the verge of pushing Abed off his seat. 

“Why’d you always look away when someones talking to you?” 

“It’s just how I am” Abed states, a sliver of fear escaping his neutral demeanor. 

Billy snarls, and it’s the ugliest sound Abed’s ever heard. 

“We get it, you were dropped on the head as a baby or somethin’. Doesn’t make it alright for you to be such a little weirdo.” he spits. 

Before Abed can even react to that, Billy tenses up and walks away, because he can see an adult out of the corner of his eye. 

Abed's back to being alone, surrounded by a menagerie of noises.

Abed knows he should be crying right now, but this same kind of exchange has happened so many times that it doesn't even surprise him anymore. And why wouldn’t it keep happening? 

He _is_ a little weirdo. 

  
  
  


One day, when Abed is twenty-two years old, he and Troy are debating which _Kickpuncher_ movie has the worst special effects in Abed’s dorm room, Troy notices that Abed is looking down at his hands instead of at his eyes. 

“Hey, Abed, not to be weird or anything, but...why do you not...y’know…”

Abed blinks. 

“Make eye contact?” 

Troy nods sheepishly. 

“Yeah.”

Abed takes a deep breath. 

“Well, it’s just that...whenever I _have_ tried to look someone in the eyes, I just feel very...uncomfortable” Abed says, and he’s worried that Troy might think he’s a weirdo or a wimp for saying that, but Troy just nods his head.

“Whenever I look someone in the eye, it feels like...I don’t know how to describe it, it just feels icky.” he realizes that saying the word “icky” makes him sound like a kindergartner, but he can’t think of any other words that could better describe the sensation he’s felt the few times he’s made eye contact.

“I know that it’s weird that I don’t look people in the eye, and I know its also really rude, and-”

“Dude, don’t worry.” Troy says.

Abed looks up from his hands. 

“Really? Sorry, it’s just that all the other times the topic of eye contact has come up in conversation, people always get mad at some point.” he says matter of factly. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me.” Troy says considerately. 

Abed’s eyes widen. 

“You mean you understand why I don’t like looking people in the eye?” 

Troy scratches the back of his head. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I really _understand_ …” 

Abed’s shoulders slump slightly in disappointment and his eyes narrow. 

“But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna get mad at you for it.” says Troy.

Abed’s eyes widen again, and he smiles. 

“I know your brain is wired a little differently, so, yeah, there’s gonna be problems you have that I don’t really get. But that doesn’t mean it’s gonna ruin our friendship.” he states kindly yet casually. 

Abed gives a thumbs up.

A few seconds of gentle silence pass before Abed speaks up.

“Do you think there are ways I can show I’m paying attention without making eye contact? Like, maybe I could look at their forehead or something?” 

Troy nods agreeably. 

“Good thinkin’ man! Oh, or maybe you could…”

The two young men talk and talk and talk about different solutions. Not all of Troy’s solutions sound like they could work, but Abed is so relieved he doesn’t mind. 

After years of people yelling at him for not looking at them, he’s finally found someone who won’t give him crap for it. 

  
Maybe life isn’t _always_ so tough after all.


End file.
